


The Bible Box

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series: Mountie Slayer, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-04-17
Updated: 2000-04-17
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Shrinks, Wyrm, Baby making and happines. The last part of ARc I. And a partial crossover with the Sopranos, vampire style.This story is a sequel toReneg.





	The Bible Box

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "The Bible Box" 
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes 
    Emails:,	
    Rating: R
    Series: Tales of the Mountie Slayer
    Notes:  This is more of a coda then anything else. A very long coda.
    Disclaimers: Tom belongs to Karras, Cal belongs to Magnes, Everything
    DS is Alliance, Dr Jennifer Melfi belongs to HBO Productions. 
    
    ------ 
    
    Ironically, it was a Bible box. 
    
    Fraser grunted as he placed the heavy box on the table.  It was made
    of dark wood polished mirror-bright with fittings that Fraser stated
    were made of platinum.  Carefully, he drew out the key Calhoun had sent
    him and opened the lid. 
    
    A smell of old paper and lavender reached their noses.  Fraser moved
    aside a piece of velvet to reveal a stack of papers beneath.  He lifted
    the first one. 
    
    "His commission," he breathed, holding up the heavy piece of paper. "Constable
    James K. Calhoun, R.C.M.P., eighteen seventy-four." 
    
    Ray pulled out a small leather folder. Inside was a daguerreotype of
    a little boy in a stiff collar and suit, with dark hair and a 
    distant look in his pale eyes.  "Eighteen sixty-four," read Ray.  He
    delved deeper into the pile.  "Marriage record.  Oh, look..." 
    
    Another daguerreootype, only this one was larger and of a handsome young
    man in the RCMP uniform of the time.  Beside him stood a dark-haired
    woman in a lacey dress, holding a bouquet of flowers. But for his dark
    eyes, Tom looked exactly like her. 
    
    "James Kilpatrick Calhoun and Marianne Louise Grissom, joined in marriage
    June 17, 1876.   God, she was beautiful." 
    
    Tom blinked back tears.  He felt guilty for prying in to so tragic a
    life.  He had to remind himself that James wanted them to know.  For
    a distraction he opened a large, heavy folder and lifted a sheet of tissue.
    Beneath was a painting of James Calhoun in the Canadian army uniform
    of 1915.  A corporal.  He looked as handsome as he 
    looked deadly. 
    
    Ray looked over at the painting.  "Here's another." 
    
    Tom took the folder and opened it with trembling hands. 1917.  He was
    a lieutenant. 
    
    Fraser had found a small flat box no bigger than his hand.  Looking deeper,
    he found more similar boxes.  Then more.  He pulled them out, stacking
    them around the table. 
    
    "Whassis?" wondered Ray, opening the first one Fraser had found. 
    
    Nestled on black velvet was a medal on a red-and-white ribbon. 
    
    "Holy..."  He opened another.  Then another.  There were 
    thirty-eight in all ranging over the course of the past century. 
    
    Tom, meanwhile, had found another folder with another series of 
    portraits.  1938, promoted to captain.  1944, promoted to major. There
    was a haunted look about him now, as if so much death was 
    creeping up upon him.  1950, Korea.  Attatched to an American unit. There
    was a sketch included in there, part of a letter from one of the men
    under his command.  Tom unfolded it carefully.  It was dated 1952, from
    a Sergeant Taylor, and the sketch was of Calhoun in his fatigues, cleaning
    a gun.  It was beautifully done in fading pencils. 
    
    "I feel like a Nosey Parker," muttered Ray. 
    
    "Hmm," Fraser replied, finding a battered journal in the very bottom
    of the box.  He opened it.  It was Calhoun's log book as a constable
    on patrol. 
    
    "January, 1880," read he. "Have captured a poacher thirty miles north
    of the pass.  Believe he is the one responsible for the missing pelts
    throughout the valley.  Am taking him in." 
    
    "Didn' they have complete sentences in 1880?" asked Ray. "Subjects? 
    Pronouns?"  Tom nudged him. 
    
    "January, 1880.  Oh, dear god in heaven, what has been done to me?  What
    type of devil have I become?  Oh, dear god, please, take me, for I cannot
    live with what I have been made to do.  What am I?  What have I done?
    What I have done.  I am damned." 
    
    The other two men were silent. 
    
    "August, 1897.  I have met a man, Marcus Ellery.  He came to me at the
    post at Inuvik.  He knows what I am.  He has explained what I have become
    for he is the same type of being.  He called me a vampyre, specifically,
    a Gangrel.  There are others out there, strange beings of many clans.
    He has told me of their ways.  I am to accompany him to his territories
    in the Yukon.  It is a relief to know I am not alone, that I am simple
    another type of creature, though he says I am no longer human.  I don't
    want to believe him, but I do. 
    
    "July, 1916.  France.  I hate this place.  I hate the trenches and the
    mud and the dying and the dead.  I did manage to move through the earth
    as Marcus said I could.  Germans taste terrible.  Almost as bad as the
    French." 
    
    Ray chuckled, opening another medal.  It was from the Korean War. 
    
    "September, 1917.  France.  They promoted me to sergeant, then lieutenant
    all inside of a month.  I don't know if it's because I have any leadership
    skills or because almost everyone else is dead. 
    
    "December 1922.  I have seen Ellery again.  He was startled that I served
    during the Great War.  He said Gangrel are usually too solitary to abide
    society.  He also called me a day walker, which he says is very rare
    for Gangrels.  He has suggested I start my own clan.  I will consider
    his suggestion, though I hesitate to inflict this type of existance on
    anyone." 
    
    Fraser cleared his throat. 
    
    "May, 1937.  It will be war again.  May God damn Adolph Hitler's soul.
    
    "June 1937.  I have started my clan, though not in the way I intended.
    I found a starving young trapper with a broken leg.  I knew he would
    die otherwise.  I wonder if I have done him a disservice by turning him.
    
    "February 1940.  War again.  I'm in France.  Again.  God must hate me
    as much as I hate him at this point.  The general has approached me and
    proposed using my abilities as a vampire for intelligence gathering.
    I'll do anything to speed the end of this mess and get the hell out of
    France. 
    
    "November, 1942.  Americans everywhere.  I'm glad.  They're the best
    fighters I saw in the Great War and they're tenacious as bulldogs.  It's
    now a matter of time.  I'm in a hospital.  Only one of the doctors speaks
    English.  I can't convince them my rapid healing is not due to the fact
    that the hospital is a church.  Pretty soon I'm going to have pilgrams
    following me around. 
    
    "August, 1943.  For what I did in Poland, they have made me captain.
    I didn't thank them, though they thanked me.  I wonder if I will ever
    forgive myself.  I wonder if /they/ will ever forgive me.  Spiritus Sancti,
    amen. 
    
    "January 1945, Germany.  I met and destroyed a German Gangrel today.
    Strange how I could understand him.  Bad enough we're vampires, but becoming
    a Nazi as well is a bit extreme.  Luckily, his uniform fit.  I got to
    the Rhine without incident. 
    
    "January 1945.  That's Major Calhoun to you, pal." 
    
    They all laughed.  It felt good. 
    
    "April 1958.  I saw a woman today that was the image of Marianne.  I
    thought that being dead would kill your feelings as well.  I was wrong.
    I miss her beyond words.  And Alice.  Time has not soothed the loss."
    
    Fraser pursed his lips.  "There's not much else.  Viet Nam.  He met McGuire
    there...building a clan...wait... 
    
    "August, 1974.  Ellery has gone into hiding, with good reason.  I just
    found out it was he who did this to me.  If I ever find that bastard
    again, I will destroy him and his children." 
    
    "Ouch," muttered Ray. 
    
    "This entry isn't dated," Fraser said.  "For the first time that I can
    remember since becoming a Vampire, I have dreamed.  It was vivid and
    strange.  I was in a hospital looking down at a bed where a young man
    lay.  No, not a man, a boy.  He couldn't even have been eighteen.  He
    looked like Marianne in so many ways.  He held a baby, and somehow I
    knew she was his and that he adored her.  They fit so well together,
    even though he didn't seem old enough to be a father.  All I could think
    of was Alice and the first time I held her and I fell in love with this
    dream.  I did not want to wake up.  Suddenly the world was empty but
    for an image in my mind." 
    
    He lowered the journal.  Both men looked at Tom.  The psychic was clearly
    affected, lost in the past. 
    
    "Tom?" whispered Fraser.  "He'll be back.  He survived all those wars.
    He'll make it back to you." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser watched Ray get dressed sleepily. So far Ray's transition had
    not bad as bad as he feared. At least from his point of view. Ray could
    no longer eat sweets, so there was less temptation for Diefenbaker, and
    occasionally Ray would already be gone before Fraser got home. He didn't
    like that much. 
    
    But the only real problems he saw with it were Ray's sudden craving for
    type O blood and no other. He sighed. Ray glanced at him, a smile on
    his face. "Something wrong?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    "What's the matter?" Ray sat beside him. "I can tell something's wrong."
    He leaned forward, kissing Fraser gently. He felt Fraser's hand come
    up and pull him closer.  For a long moment Ray studied the Mountie's
    eyes, then he softly said, "I'm worried about him, too, Frase." 
    
    Frase smiled against Ray's lips, pulling away slightly. "I could be mistaken,
    but won't you be late for work?" 
    
    "Let the Duck Boys wait..." 
    
    "Quite right." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom twisted in his sleep, tiny moans making it past his lips. Adam was
    sobbing quietly in his sleep, and the sound woke him. He was still dizzy
    from the dream. No. Not a dream. 
    
    A vision. 
    
    He could see himself staking Ray, killing him and being glad about the
    death of a Caanite prince. He didn't want that. Couldn't live with that.
    He shivered, sitting up in bed. 
    
    "We've gotta get out of here..." He pulled his bathrobe on over his shorts
    and t-shirt, hurriedly packing his things and Cassie's.  He scrawled
    a note to Ray on the message pad, knowing it wasn't enough and that they
    deserved better, and carried Adam out to the car. He'd pick Cassie up
    from Irene's in the morning. 
    
    *** 
    
    Three nights later, close to eleven, Fraser woke to a knocking on the
    door.  Stumbling out of bed and tripping over Diefenbaker, he made his
    way to the living room and opened the door. 
    
    James Calhoun stood outside.  He was dressed in a black flight suit and
    looked as run-down as the undead could be.  He swallowed, looking at
    the startled Mountie a little anxiously. 
    
    "Can I still call this home?" he asked in a quiet voice. 
    
    Fraser smiled broadly.  "Always.  Come in, Jamey." 
    
    Ray came out of the bathroom as Dief tackled the Sabbat.  "Where is Tom?"
    
    Kowalski shook his head.  "He left.  Moved out." Ray had been on his
    way out the door. Not good to be late twice in one week, but what the
    hell? This was slightly more important. 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "We don't know why and we've been trying to get him back, but..." A barely
    readable message on a piece of paper was all they had to go on. No one
    could read Tom's handwriting, so for all they knew he'd explained exactly
    why he'd left.  Calhoun frowned at the note.  Heiroglyphics would be
    easier to read. 
    
    Fraser spoke.  "A lot has happened, Jamey.  Sit.  We'll explain." 
    
    Calhoun dropped into a chair.  He stared at Ray in shock.  "You..." 
    
    Morosely, Ray nodded. 
    
    He was stricken.  "I am...so sorry, Prince Kowalski.  I..." 
    
    "Don' worry.  Accordin' ta Turnbull, I'm not done cookin' yet." 
    
    "What?" asked Calhoun, confounded. 
    
    "Wyrm wants me back." 
    
    *** 
    
    He entered the bedroom, watching Tom sleep quietly. Cass was sleeping
    on the pull-out couch and Adam was in a makeshift basinet that Calhoun
    was convinced Tom had snagged from the hospital. What the hell was it
    with the ex cop and stealing? Was he intending on becoming a professional
    thief as well as a Slayer? 
    
    He sighed, sitting on the bed beside Tom, staring at the psychic Slayer
    calmly. At least McGuire had kept his promise of keeping Tom out of a
    mental hospital. He didn't think he could bear it otherwise. 
    
    Tom's breathing was uneven. Calhoun leaned down, listening to it carefully
    before he pulled Tom into his arms and lay down beside him. Unconsciously,
    Tom inched closer, snuggling deeper into the embrace. Whatever had bothered
    him had obviously not invaded his dreams. 
    
    He planted a kiss on Tom's forhead, wrapping his arms and legs around
    the young Slayer. They could talk about it in the morning.  Right now,
    he just wanted to enjoy the warmth beside him and sleep for a week. 
    
    "Alex...?" Tom suddenly whispered hoarsely in his sleep. Calhoun froze,
    all thoughts of sleep scattered at the name of Tom's former lover.  The
    man had been so cruel.  Calhoun knew he was no saint, nor had his intentions
    always been pure, but at least he had never intentionally hurt this man.
    Unlike Alex, who had beaten and abused Tom for almost all of their relationship.
    He was rather grateful to Cecil for killing the alderman. 
    
    "Alex...don'..." wimpered Tom.  "Please...that hurts..." 
    
    Calhoun held him tighter, sympathy replacing rejection.  "Shh, Tom, shh.
    It's James.  I'm back.  I would never hurt you.  Shh." 
    
    Another faint sound escaped the Slayer.  Calhoun smoothed his hair gently.
    It needed to be cut.  Tom looked a little healthier than when they'd
    first met.  /The virtues of eating, Tom.../ 
    
    "I don'...like that," murmured Tom.  Calhoun immediately stopped stroking
    his hair, unsure if he was being addressed or Tom was talking in his
    sleep.  Tom began to shift and moan, so he resumed the caress and instantly
    the young man calmed again. 
    
    "Tom?" he asked quietly, hoping his presence might dispell these nightmares.
    "Tom?" 
    
    The psychic started awake.  He was trembling and his heart rate was fast.
    "James?" he breathed, sounding as if he couldn't believe this was real.
    He felt the vampire's cheek with fingers that shook. 
    
    Calhoun captured Tom's hand in his own.  "Yes.  I'm right here." 
    
    "You came back!  Oh, god, you came back." 
    
    "Promised I wou-" 
    
    He was cut off by Tom's lips against his own, a warm and enthusiastic
    caress.  God, he'd missed this man.  Could never get enough of him...
    
    Then the Slayer curled up against him, pressing close against the slick
    fabric of the flight suit.  Calhoun wrapped himself around Tom's lean
    form, daring the nightmares to return. 
    
    *** 
    
    Stella sat in front of Vecchio, watching him eat a late dinner. She wasn't
    very hungry. Hadn't been for a couple of days. She didn't know how to
    explain it. She felt fine. So did Irene. But something had to be wrong.
    
    Didn't it? 
    
    Five more hours and Cassie would call about her father. She'd been doing
    that ever since he'd moved them back to that rat trap he called an apartment.
    It was ludicrus.  The place was a hazard and the rats tasted terrible.
    
    *** 
    
    Ray hated the night shift. Hated being away from Fraser, hated having
    to jump the broom every time Igor the janitor went by. He also hated
    visiting the Morgue/Reanimation lab. 
    
    But it was apparently his fate tonight to do both. 
    
    He stared anywhere but at the body Mort was working on, waiting for his
    diagnosis on how exactly the guy had died. Watching the Reanimator work
    was like watching an old black and white movie of Frankenstein. Weird.
    This, after Igor had ambushed him coming out of the supply closet.  They
    guy was like a video game character. Jump over the broom, get ten points.
    Get whacked, lose a thousand.  Ray was convinced Mort reanimated him
    nightly, just long enough to was the odd floor and harass the odd detective.
    
    "Are ya done yet?" he called over his shoulder at Mort. 
    
    "Patience, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    "Ray.  Call me Ray, Mort." 
    
    "Patience, Ray.  These things take time." 
    
    He glanced back.  Big mistake.  God, why him?  Why couldn't he have been
    a day walker like Zuko or Calhoun?  Bad enough to be a vampire and get
    cravings for O-positive blood, but he wasn't even something cool.  Just
    a stinking night crawler stuck in the morgue with a mostly dead guy and
    Dr. Frankenstein's understudy.  He didn't even get that nice transition
    that the McGets had been given.  Being human had been so damned wonderful.
    This just sucked.  No pun intended. 
    
    Now Tom off on his own with the kids.  God, the man couldn't take decent
    care of himself.  What was he thinking taking a teenager and an infant
    with him?  Ray could understand his need for independance, but that apartment
    was a dive and the neighborhood was one of the worst in the city.  He
    was afraid for his friend and his father and his aunt. 
    
    What a crew.  Any shrink that took them on would be nuts to even try.
    
    "Ready, Ray.  He should be alive for ten minutes or so.  Will that be
    enough?" 
    
    "Yeah.  Got the videos rolling?  Good.  I just need him to pick out his
    attacker from this photo line-up."  He turned, hating this part.  "Okay.
    Let 'er rip." 
    
    He put on the eyeshields Mort gave him, wincing as the reanimator touched
    the things that were little more than supernatural sparkplugs to victim's
    exposed brain.  The guy's feet spasmsed, and then he was awake. 
    
    *** 
    
    Dewey glanced up when Ray finally came back up from the lab. "Well?"
    
    Ray slapped the photograph down on the table. "Guy said he was killed
    in self defense. Funny how repetent people get once they've been dead
    a few days. Practically begged Mort not to let him go back. Guess he
    didn't like the smell of brimstone." 
    
    "Jesus." Dewey shook his head. "Ok. Wow." 
    
    "Yeah." He nodded. "Cards?" He jumped the broom again, landing in his
    chair with a hard thud. 
    
    "Nope.  I'm in at eight, remember.  'Night!" 
    
    God, the nightshift sucked. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser sat, reading his paper and subtly watching Dief roam the apartment
    trying to figure things out. "Dief, leave Petunia be." 
    
    The werekid shrank back from the turtle cage, making his way towards
    the television. He flipped it on and off like it was the most amazing
    thing he'd ever seen in his life. Fraser shook his head. "You're getting
    soft, Dief. You realise that, don't you?" 
    
    Dief glanced at him, rolling his eyes. 
    
    "You are. I think it's high time you were enrolled in school." Dief's
    glare was all the encouragement he needed. He just needed to find a school
    for a deaf wolf kid. He sighed. Maybe Ray Vecchio would know. 
    
    *** 
    
    He was taking this independance thing to manic levels.  Tom spent the
    day in his tiny apartment, cleaning and taking care of Adam.  He wouldn't
    allow Calhoun to do anything. 
    
    "Tom, talk to me.  Are you angry because I left?  I apologise, but I
    had to go.  I wasn't given much of a choice." 
    
    Tom was on his knees, cleaning the refrigorator.  "I'm not mad, James."
    
    "Fine.  You're not mad.  I hurt you, then." 
    
    "You can't hurt me, James." 
    
    The vampire frowned.  "I can and I have and I did and I am sorry but
    I'm an officer in two bloody armies and I believe in the oath I took
    to defend my country whenever I was called upon to do so." 
    
    "I'm not hurt, James," insisted Tom, scrubbing away. 
    
    "Then what are you?  Tom, don't try to drive me away.  I won't go." 
    
    "I'm glad your friend McGuire settled all my medical bills.  It must
    have been a lot of money." 
    
    Calhoun sank into a chair.  "He's not my friend.  Not really.  He's my
    superior officer in the U.S. Army." 
    
    "Well, I'm touched you're so worried about me that you'd threaten his
    life if I wasn't happy." 
    
    The words belied the underlying venom.  Calhoun stared at the half-visible
    form sticking out of the refrigorator.  What the hell was going on? 
    
    "Could you do me a favor, James?  Adam is almost out of formula.  Could
    you get him more?" 
    
    "Sure," he answered warily.  "Want me to take him along?" 
    
    Tom finally looked at him.  "That would be nice.  Thanks." 
    
    *** 
    
    He had an hour for lunch.  Fraser had promised Ray he would check on
    Tom, perhaps speak to him about why he'd left and if he would come back.
    Tom seemed the only one of that family that wanted to leave but the others
    would invariably follow and Ray was terribly worried for the children.
    Jamey had been extremely upset last night when he'd left.  Something
    had to be said and done. 
    
    He remembered this neighborhood.  He had to look away from the alley
    beside Tom's apartment building where Lilith had forced him to assault
    Ray.  Hurrying up the stairs, he found the apartment and knocked on the
    door.  A muffled voice called, "James, you don't have to-" 
    
    Tom opened the door.  His expression turned from surprised to expressionless
    at the sight of the Slayer Born and Bred on his doorstep. 
    
    "May I come in, Tom?" asked Fraser. 
    
    For a moment he looked as if he might refuse, then Tom nodded in resignation
    ans stepped aside.  "Sure.  Come on in." 
    
    Fraser followed him into the apartment, frowning. Even clean, this place
    was worse than his first apartment in the city. It had rooms, yet it
    looked...ragged. "Everyone's worried about you, Tom." 
    
    Tom shrugged, going back to scrubbing the insides of his cupboards. "Well,
    I'm sorry." 
    
    "Why are you doing this?" 
    
    "What, living on my own? I'm an adult, Benton. I've done it before."
    He felt Fraser's unrelenting gaze, and turned around with sudden ire.
    "For God's sakes, this is /my/ family. Not yours. What the fuck do you
    care?" 
    
    "Aja is Ray's father. And you are..." Fraser stammered, not having encountered
    this side of Tom Grissom before. He'd seen it in Faith, and in another
    Slayer long ago. Was this what he had to look forward to as a born and
    bred? 
    
    "Adam. His name is Adam." Tom's voice was rising. Fraser could practically
    see the rage seething in his eyes. Was this what all this was about?
    They wouldn't call Aja Adam? 
    
    "To you he's your only son, Adam. To us he's Aja. Caine. Yes." He nodded,
    assuredly. Trying to calm Tom down. 
    
    "My only son? My /only/ son??" Tom was teetering on exploding. 
    
    Oh dear. 
    
       *** 
    
    Vecchio sat down on the bed, watching Stella sleep. Or Irene. It was
    hard to tell lately, but he didn't mind. He loved them both. And he was
    worried.  Enough that he'd swung by on his lunch break to check up on
    her. 
    
    Both women seemed...distracted.  Stella wasn't eating much lately and
    she seemed to retreat behind Irene a lot.  When she woke, he'd find out
    if she was sick.  Maybe she was just tired with the workload she'd been
    shouldering for all this time...That she had taken the day off spoke
    volumes.  Whatever it was, it was hitting her hard. 
    
    *** 
    
    "I have two sons, Constable." His tone was even, not matching the turmoil
    in his eyes. 
    
    "Of course, Tom.  My apologies for excluding Adolph," Fraser said, hoping
    to placate him.  "To answer your question, I care because I consider
    you a friend.  You left in the middle of the night without saying why
    -" 
    
    "I left a note." 
    
    "We couldn't read it." 
    
    "I want to be left alone." 
    
    "What are you afraid of, Tom?"  Fraser watched him carefully, gauging
    his reaction.  "Are you aftraid of loving?  Or being loved?  Is it hard
    for you to accept?  We've all been there." 
    
    Tom's eyes narrowed. 
    
    "Is it me?  A Slayer Born and Bred?  I can't help what I am any more
    than you can help being a Slayer and a Seer.  Is it Ray?  Are you afra-"
    
    "NO!  Stop it!  Get out of my house, Fraser." 
    
    "Tom-" 
    
    "Out!" 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun looked down as Caine began to cry.  "My lord?  What is it?  Tom?
    Prince Kowalski?" 
    
    He concentrated.  In his mind there came an image of some horrid, dark
    dreamscape. 
    
    "Is this what you see, Lord Caine?  Or Tom?" 
    
    The image changed.  He saw a flash of brightness that was Prince Kowalski
    being engulfed by the darkness that was Tom Grissom. 
    
    Caine stopped crying, gazing up at the Sabbat he had once hated enough
    to destroy and now trusted with his life and hopes. 
    
    "He's frightened, isn't he?  Ray is what he lives to slay.  Fraser is
    an ideal.  He doesn't know how to be happy anymore, does he, my lord?
    He's quite forgotten." 
    
    Caine swung his tiny hands and blew bubbles at the Sabbat Elder. 
    
    "I think you're right." He dialed his cellphone one-handed. 
    
    "Noor residence." 
    
    "Cecil? I need a bit of advice. Have you got the time?" 
    
    A deep sigh. "Plenty of it, actually." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser stood his ground. Tom had to see that they cared. Had to know.
    "Tom, I won't go. Not until-" He ducked as the psychic threw a sponge
    at him. He gaped. "Tom!" 
    
    "You /don't/ care, and I don't care if you care. This is my family. Adam
    is my son, he's not...he's not whatever the fuck you keep telling me
    he is." Tom's voice was strange. He kept looking around, as if searching
    for something. Fraser suddenly understood part of it. 
    
    "Tom..." 
    
    "No!" He was breaking. Losing it completely. "Just go away. Get out.
    Please, just go..." 
    
    "I can't. I won't. Not until..." 
    
    Tom exploded, finally and shockingly. "Until what? Until I want to die
    even more? Until I want to stay awake so bad I stop dreaming about Alex,
    or killing Stan or anything like that?" 
    
    Fraser blinked. Dreaming about.... 
    
    "Until what, Fraser? Until I turn into Faith? Until I /kill/ you? What?"
    He was breaking. Crying, and clutching the edge of the couch. He sat
    with a thud, feeling Fraser's eyes on him. God he was a mess. "Until
    you put me away forever?" 
    
    "I'd never let them..." 
    
    "Bull." 
    
    "Tom..." Fraser had no idea what to do. No idea if Tom needed comfort,
    or what exactly. He glanced over at the door as it opened, admiting Calhoun
    and Aj....Adam. 
    
    Calhoun stared at Tom in shock. "What happened?" 
    
    "Oh, fuck you..." Tom curled on the sofa, not even bothering to stop
    crying. "Just go to hell, both of you." 
    
    Calhoun looked to Fraser, who shook his head. He didn't understand. "Tom,
    look at me." 
    
    Reluctantly, Tom raised his head. 
    
    Three sets of very concerned eyes looked back at him. 
    
    Calhoun sat next to him on the couch, gently passing him the child. 
    
    "Tom, I told you before: I'm not leaving.  Too many people have left
    you.  I'm not going.  Neither is Fraser.  We know you're frightened.
    I don't blame you.  I'm frightened, too." 
    
    Grissom stared at him incredulously, tears streaming doen his face. 
    "You?" 
    
    "Out of my frigging mind," admitted the vampire with a wry smile. 
    
    Tom looked over at the serge-clad Mountie who, like Calhoun, had hung
    on despite the psychic's best efforts to expel him. 
    
    "We don't want to lose you, Tom.  I've lost too much in my life as well.
    My family is gone.  Ray's has disowned him.  We've built our own and
    you're part of it.  Part of us."   He crouched down.  "If you want to
    stay here, fine.  If you don't ever want to tell us why you moved out,
    fine.  But please, Thomas, don't leave /us/." 
    
    Tom shook his head, vigourously. He couldn't. He needed this. Needed
    here. He'd been here so long. Another sob leaked past. He felt arms go
    around him. 
    
    "Tom, I think you need to talk to someone. A doctor?" 
    
    "A doctor..." He sniffed. 
    
    Calhoun nodded. "Cecil made you an appointment. A psychiatrist who worked
    with a key member of a uh...family up in New Jersey. She's just moved
    to town, or something. Will you talk to her?" 
    
    *** 
    
    "Stell?  Irene?  You awake?" 
    
    "Hmm?"  The blond vengance demon lifted her head, stirring. 
    
    "Hey, honey," Ray said, still sitting on the bed beside her.  "The doctor's
    appointment is at three.  You wanted to get ready, remember?" 
    
    An hour later, they were sitting in the doctor's office as the Cronos
    MD described a whole batillion of awful-sounding tests he wanted to run
    when one of the nurses returned with preliminary blood test results.
    The doctor smiled, showing sharp yellow teeth. 
    
    "Well, Ms. Kowalski, this is good news." 
    
    Ray held her hand tightly, trying to reassure her. 
    
    "Congratulations are in order, I believe." 
    
    "Congratulations?" No. It couldn't be. 
    
    "You're with child." 
    
    *** 
    
    "A shrink? You want me to see a shrink." Ray stared at Fraser, incredulously.
    He was having a tough time sleeping during the day. His body wasn't used
    to it and he missed coffee more than he missed sunlight right now. 
    
    Fraser nodded. "Both of us. Tom stipulated that he would only do it if
    we would, too. Tonight." 
    
    "He's talking to her?" 
    
    "Right now." Fraser smiled. "Perhaps she can help you with your sleeping
    problem." 
    
    "Fraser." 
    
    "Understood." 
    
    *** 
    
    Dr. Melfi looked up from her file. "You spent some time in a psychiatric
    facility?" 
    
    "Three months...I wasn't crazy." 
    
    "Unhappy, perhaps?" She raised an eyebrow. "The doctor wrote that you
    would often have long crying jags followed by fits of paranoia." 
    
    "Unhappy would be a good word." 
    
    "You've recently had a child." 
    
    "Two." Tom sniffed, rocking back in the chair. "Um...Adam and Adolph."
    
    "Are you having problems with them?" 
    
    He shook his head, then nodded. "Adolph tried to kill me." 
    
    "It was a difficult birth?" 
    
    "No." She didn't understand. "He lashed out and tried to gut me." 
    
    "He's a demon." 
    
    "A wyrm." 
    
    She sighed, settling back. This may take a long time. 
    
    *** 
    
    "So...Mr. Kowalski, please relax.  Tell me about yourself." 
    
    "Uh...I'm a detective for Chicago PD...I...I dunno." 
    
    "How about your family?" 
    
    "My real family won't talk to me anymore since I started turnin'.  They
    spouted some religion all of a sudden.  I think they were lookin' for
    excuses not to send me Christmas cards." 
    
    "And now?" 
    
    "Oh, well, with this whole vampire clan thing, Tom's kid, Adam, I call
    'em Aja 'cause that's what his kids usedta call him before Lilith killed
    them all, he's my dad." 
    
    "Adam is an infant, Ray." 
    
    "Yeah, well, his body but his mind belongs to Caine.  Y'know, slew Abel
    from the Bible Caine.  He's my dad." 
    
    "That's mythology, Stan." 
    
    "Call me Ray, Doc, and it doesn't matter what ya say it is." 
    
    "That would make Tom your grandfather." 
    
    "Yeah.  And Daniel is my great grandfather in my great grandmother's
    body." 
    
    "Her body?  And where is she?" 
    
    "Inna book.  It's nice that Diefenbaker's got so much family, isn't it?"
    
    "Diefenbaker?" 
    
    "My son.  He's a werewolf.  We brought him along, too, since the last
    time we left him alone too long he almost got into the turtle's cage."
    
    "Turtle?  What's the turtle to you?" 
    
    "Uh...a pet, Doc." 
    
    "No relation?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    "How do you feel about being a vampire?" 
    
    "It sucks." 
    
    Blank stare. 
    
    "Sorry." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Do you love your children, Tom?" Melfi settled back in her chair again,
    playing with a few stray strands of hair. 
    
    "Of course." 
    
    "Even Adolph?" 
    
    "I...um...yes." 
    
    "That scares you, doesn't it? That you love the child that tried to kill
    you." 
    
    Silence. He wasn't talking again. She sighed and tried a different tactic.
    
    "Tell me about Alex Vargas." 
    
    "Alex?" 
    
    "He hurt you, didn't he? Drugged you. Right?" 
    
    "Only after he became an Alderman." 
    
    "You loved him?" 
    
    Another pause. "Yes." 
    
    "Tell me about him. Tell me why you loved him." 
    
    *** 
    
    "So Diefenbaker is Ray's son?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "But, he's lived with you most of his life." 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "I don't understand..." 
    
    "They share blood." 
    
    "Oh." 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    *** 
    
    "So...Diefenbaker, I want you to look at these pictures and tell me what
    you see." 
    
    Fraser grimaced.  "Excuse me, Doctor, but Diefenbaker is deaf and incapable
    of speaking." 
    
    "Werewolves can talk." 
    
    "He's not a purebred werewolf and even before he became deaf he never
    spoke in human form." 
    
    "How do you communicate?" 
    
    "He can read lips in several languages and I generally know what he's
    thinking." 
    
    "Ah.  Well, then maybe you can translate for me.  Here, Diefenbaker,
    look at this print.  What does it remind you of?" 
    
    The fair-haired, golden-eyed boy took the print and sniffed it curiously,
    growling. 
    
    "Spaghetti," said Fraser. 
    
    The next one.  "Jimmies from a chocolate donut.  Oh, not chocolate? 
    Jimmies from a glazed donut.  Sorry.  My mistake." 
    
    Next. "Sliced deli ham." 
    
    "Melted chocolate." 
    
    "Sushi." 
    
    "Moose hocks with Gorgonzola.  Well done." 
    
    "Paella." 
    
    "Stir-fried scallops with black bean sauce." 
    
    "Ahem!"  She sat up straighter.  Dief watched with interest.  "Constable,
    are you sure this is what he's saying?  It's all food!" 
    
    Fraser shrugged apologetically.  "He thinks with his stomach." 
    
    "Obviously." 
    
    *** 
    
    "James Kirkpatrick Calhoun." 
    
    "Kilpatrick." 
    
    "Excuse me?" 
    
    "Kilpatrick.  My mother's maiden name.  You said Kirkpatrick." 
    
    "You seem rather defensive of that fact." 
    
    "It's not my name." 
    
    "Just a mistake." 
    
    "Which I corrected." 
    
    "Ah." 
    
    "Ah?  What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 
    
    "Nothing.  So...according to the background paperwork you filled out,
    you're obsessed with the First World War." 
    
    "Noooo.  I served during the Great War.  I'm not obsessed with it." 
    
    "Interesting syntax,  The Great War.  Not World War I." 
    
    "That's what we called it, lady!  How the hell could we know there would
    be another?" 
    
    "Ever treated for being shell shocked or post traumatic stress syndrome?"
    
    "No!" 
    
    "You did a lot of undercover work during World War II.  Most of the missions
    could be considered suicide missions.  Do you have a death wish of sorts?"
    
    "I'm already dead!" 
    
    "Ah." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Well, Fraser, how'd it go?" 
    
    "I don't think I managed to convince her." 
    
    "What of?" 
    
    "Anything." 
    
    "Yo, Cal, what'd she say?" 
    
    "She said I don't love my mother and I've got problems with authority
    and I've been shell-shocked ever since the Battle of the Somme!" 
    
    "Oh, dear." 
    
    "Ouch." 
    
    "What'd she say to you?" 
    
    "She asked me not to come back." 
    
    "Oh dear.  And she believes Diefenbaker has an unhealthy obsession with
    dinner." 
    
    In unison, the four of them looked towards the door of the session room.
    "He's still in there?" 
    
    "Apparently." 
    
    "Must be some good stuff he's telling her." 
    
    Fraser tilted his head, "Well, it's conceivable that he would take longer.
    He was the only one who really needed help..." 
    
    Calhoun nodded. "I wonder what they're talking about." 
    
    They all quieted down. If they listened carefully, they could almost
    hear... 
    
    *** 
    
    "Alright, tom, back to Alex.  Did he make you happy?" 
    
    "No...not after the first year." 
    
    "What did he do the first year you dated him?" 
    
    "He was a cop. A detective." 
    
    "Then he became Alderman." 
    
    Tom nodded, shortly. "Yeah. Kinda went downhill from there." 
    
    "He was older than you, wasn't he?" 
    
    "Not by much. Five years." 
    
    "You loved him. But he hurt you. Cecil hurt you too." 
    
    He shook his head. "No. Cecil never..." 
    
    "He raped you." 
    
    "Ah...that..." 
    
    "You say that as if it were no big deal. It was rape, yes?" She checked
    her records. 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "But you didn't press charges." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "You loved him." 
    
    He nodded again, biting back a choking sob. "Yes. Very much." 
    
    She was getting closer to the focal point. She could see that. "In fact,
    you told your doctor at Havenwell, that Cecil was the best relationship
    you'd had in years. Is that still true?" 
    
    "I don't...I don't know." 
    
    "What about James? Has he hurt you?" 
    
    "Once." 
    
    *** 
    
    Two heads turned to Calhoun, shocked. He shook his head, disbelieving.
    All this in Tom's head, and he hadn't seen it... 
    
    *** 
    
    "When?" 
    
    "I don't remember." 
    
    "You blocked it?" She checked the box of tissues. Full. "Or you don't
    want to talk about it." 
    
    "I don't want to talk about it." He blurted, twisting his fingers together
    nervously. 
    
    "All right." She stared at him. "When are you happy?" Dead silence. "Are
    you ever happy?" 
    
    "I don't know. I'm thinking." 
    
    "Are you happy with your children?" She smiled, knowing the answer to
    that one. 
    
    "What do you mean?" 
    
    "When you're with them.Are you happy?" 
    
    He shook his head. "No." 
    
    She frowned. "Oh? Why?" 
    
    "They don't seem to be mine.  Adolph said he wasn't.  Wyrm just used
    me.  Cassie I know, but she's almost a woman now.  Adam...everyone calls
    him Caine and defers to him like he's a lord.  I don't feel needed by
    them.  They seem to like Ray more than me.  Adam does.  He used to be
    afraid of me when I was carrying Adolph.  He only wanted Ray." 
    
    "And James?" 
    
    Tom let out a shuddering breath.  "He used me.  I just...remind him of
    his dead wife." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun made to leap out of his chair and break the door down.  Ray and
    Fraser each seized an arm and wrestled him down.  All of them were silent,
    still trying to eavesdrop as they struggled to restrain the furious and
    insulted vampire. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Used you?  How?" 
    
    "To kidnap Fraser.  It's a long story.  James' queen, Lilith, wanted
    to get to Ray, so we kidnapped Fraser.  I helped him." 
    
    "Willingly?" 
    
    Silence. 
    
    "He...he...spent the night with me.  He...kept me from killing myself.
    He...god, what a night." 
    
    "Are you glad he stopped you?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Do you think he stopped you just because he wanted to use you?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun's entire body was a tense mass of potential energy waiting for
    Tom's next words to unleash him or calm him dowm.  He bared his fanges
    at Kowalski, Prince be damned, and the unimpressed detective just smacked
    him in the head.  Dief watched on in speechless delight. 
    
    *** 
    
    "No." 
    
    *** 
    
    They hit the floor with a loud thud, all three of them in a tangled heap.
    Diefenbaker jumed on top. 
    
    *** 
    
    "So you aren't happy with your kids, or with James." 
    
    "Sometimes with James." 
    
    "All right. Then, when are you happy?" She shook her head, rephrasing.
    "What instances in your life made you happy?" 
    
    He paused, looking down. "I don't know..." 
    
    "You don't know? Why? They haven't lasted long?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Would it help if I asked you about specific events?" 
    
    "It might." 
    
    "When you conceived Cassie." 
    
    He snorted. "Definetly not." 
    
    "When you carried her." 
    
    He nodded, slowly. "It was...nice." 
    
    "When you carried Adam?" 
    
    "No." 
    
    "No?" 
    
    He shook his head, not elaborating. 
    
    "Carrying Adolph?" Again his answer surprised her. 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray raised an eyebrow, and looked at Fraser. Calhoun stiffened again.
    
    *** 
    
    "Tell me some on your own." 
    
    He thought back, "When I met my dad. When my dad was released from the
    book." He sighed. "When James rescued Adam. The day I found out I was
    a Slayer." 
    
    "That made you happy?" 
    
    "In a way." 
    
    "Maybe that's one of the problems, then?" 
    
    "I don't..." 
    
    "You're a Slayer. Your lover's a vampire. Your friend is a vampire. Your
    father is a demon. You're half demon. Your children are all demons. What
    does that tell you?" 
    
    He shook his head, "That I'm a freaker?" 
    
    She smirked. "All right..." She leaned forward. "Now, what makes you
    sad?" 
    
    He frowned. "Life." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun just about lost it at that comment. 
    
    "That stupid son of a - doesn't he know what I would give right now to
    -" 
    
    "Apparantly not," hissed Fraser. 
    
    "He doesn't know what he's got, that moronic freaker!" 
    
    "Shh!" ordered Fraser in a whisper.  "He doesn't know we're listening
    when we shouldn't be!" 
    
    "Go home if you feel guilty, Slayer!" 
    
    "Not when I drove.  Quiet!  Dief!  Quit it with the lights!" 
    
    *** 
    
    "Life makes you sad?  What part of it?" 
    
    "The whole shebang.  My life hasn't exactly been pleasant.  Or normal."
    
    "What would you change, if you could?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray looked down at the vampire.  Calhoun was waiting for another brilliant
    reply from his lover to set him off all over again. He wondered if any
    of this was really helping Tom. 
    
    *** 
    
    "My mother.  I would have liked for her to love me." 
    
    "You think she didn't love you?" 
    
    "She wanted a girl.  Only females are Slayers Born." He barely surpressed
    a sob. 
    
    "But you are a Slayer." Logic took point. 
    
    "It's a long story, Doctor, but she didn't want a son and I was made
    abundantly aware of that for years." 
    
    She nodded, making note of it "What else?" 
    
    "I don't know..." 
    
    "You said a fond memory was of carrying Adolph. But he tried to kill
    you. Why are those memories happy?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun closed his eyes. He wasn't going to leap up. No. No. No. 
    
    *** 
    
    "I felt needed. He was completely dependent on me. Food. Life. Everything..
    He needed me." 
    
    "Until you gave birth to him. And then he grew up." She leaned forward.
    "And he tried to kill you." 
    
    He didn't speak. 
    
    "And Faith. Tell me about Faith." 
    
    "What about her?" 
    
    "You had an affair with her during your confinement." 
    
    "Yes. I don't want to talk about her." 
    
    "But..." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "All right. Let's talk about your pregnancies..." 
    
    "What about them?" 
    
    "Were they pleasant?" 
    
    Tom held his head in his hands, staring at the floor.  "Doctor, I've
    had three children.  All three were the products of rape.  Yeah, Moloch
    demons have some pretty loose morals, but I'm half human, too.  I was
    too young to be a father when I had Cassie.  I was on the verge of delivering
    Adam when Cecil used the wrong spell and put that pregnancy on hold for
    three more years.  Adolph was ripped out of me and then he tried to gut
    me.  How could any of that really be considered pleasant?" 
    
    "You resent your children, then?" 
    
    "NO!" he cried, his heart breaking anew. 
    
    *** 
    
    "The bitch dies now!" 
    
    "Jamey!" 
    
    Calhoun surged to his feet, twisting free of both Mountie and cop and
    kicking in the door with one booted foot.  Tom and Dr. Melfi looked up
    in shock at the raw fury of a pissed off Sabbat Elder.  There were tears
    on Tom's cheeks and he looked paler and more wasted than when they'd
    come. 
    
    "I've had enough of this, you bitch!  THIS is supposed to help him? 
    Jesus Christ, you've done more harm than good!" 
    
    "Tom must achieve a full breakdown before he can truly begin to rebuild
    his life, Mr. Calhoun." 
    
    "By driving him nuts?" 
    
    "James..." 
    
    Calhoun pulled Tom to his feet. "No. Listen to me. You're unhappy because
    you can't remember how to be happy. You don't need any psycho babbling
    bitch telling you you hate your mother. You /know/ to do that already.
    We all hate her for you, too!" 
    
    "James." 
    
    "Listen to me! I love you, just...listen." 
    
    "You love me?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray opened his cellphone. "Kowalski." 
    
    "Detetive, I was wondering if you might stop by my apartment tonight?"
    Turnbull asked, quietly. "I have some...research to show you." 
    
    "I guess....can it wait?" 
    
    "Not really. No." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun stared into frightened brown eyes. "Yes.  I love you.  More than
    anything.  I need you.  You're my world." 
    
    "Mr. Calhoun, you really need to go back into the other..." 
    
    Tom gave her a look like she was the one that needed therapy.  After
    such a declaration, he wasn't letting the vampire out of his reach for
    anything.  "He can stay." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "You can stay." 
    
    Melfi glanced at her clock. "Actually, Mr. Grissom your time is up. But
    if you'd care to make an appointment for next week..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom lay in the back seat of the car, head resting on Calhoun's knee.
    He was feeling a little fuzzy from the sedatives that the doctor had
    given him for the night. He curled up, watching Ray drive and listening
    to Fraser point out the red lights and stop streets they blew through.
    What was with the Mountie and red things? 
    
    Surprisingly, he actually felt a little better.  James loved him.  He
    did have friends and they cared enough about him to try to help him.
    Perhaps he wasn't completely hopeless. 
    
    He felt fingers stroking his hair, and it felt good. The car suddenly
    stopped and he glacned up. "Where're we going?" 
    
    "Turnbull needs to tell me something," said Ray, exiting the car.  "We'll
    just run in.  C'mon, Dief." 
    
    "He's got my book...I'll go up with you..." Tom yawned and started to
    sit up.  Calhoun pulled him back down. 
    
    "Not now.  Go to sleep." 
    
    "'Kay..." 
    
    He felt strong arms embrace him, pull him close and he gladly went. 
    Snuggling close, he felt cool lips touch his forehead. 
    
    God, he needed this. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Think he'll be okay?" wondered Ray, walking up the consolate steps and
    waiting for Fraser to unlock the door. 
    
    "Eventually, yes, I do.  It will take time and work.  What did Turnbull
    want to show you?" 
    
    "I dunno.  He hasn't been real keen on me and this vampire thing.  Not
    that I'm in to it, I mean, this night shift does not blow my hair back,
    but he's manic." 
    
    Fraser opened the door and let man and werewolf through.  "That's not
    unusual, actually." 
    
    *** 
    
    Turnbull straightened the book on the table for what felt like the fifth
    time that night. This had to work. Wyrm said it would work, and he believed
    him. Wyrm needed Ray as a ghoulite. So it would work. 
    
    He hoped.  He just hoped that eventually, his friends would understand.
    
    He heard voices, and jumped away from the book as if it had shocked him.
    Putting on a false smile, he turned to Ray and Fraser as they entered
    the room. 
    
    "Ray! Good news." 
    
    Ray tilted his head, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?" 
    
    "Oh yes. Very good." He leaned forward, almost conspiratorily. "I was
    talking with a uh...an old friend. He told me /exactly/ how to fix this.
    You can't be made exactly what you were before, but you can be a ghoulite
    again." 
    
    Ray glanced at Fraser, stunned, then back at Turnbull who was halfway
    across the room now and heading towards the Wiccan alter in the corner.
    "Yeah?"  There was hope in the American's voice.  Turnbull was glad to
    hear it.  Perhaps Ray might someday forgive him for what he was about
    to do. 
    
    "A simple spell." 
    
    "That's it?"  It sounded too easy to be true. 
    
    Turnbull nodded, then slapped is forhead. "Ray, could you bring me the
    book, please? I completely forgot..." 
    
    Ray nodded, picking up the dead thing book with a grimace. Nearly halfway
    to Turnbull's side, he stumbled. His head was spinning, the room spinning
    the opposite way. He heard Fraser call his name, and it sounded echoey.
    
    And as he fell, he was convinced he could smell sulphur. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser lunged, but Turnbull seized him and pinned him against the wall.
    "Don't sir!  It's the only way!" 
    
    Fraser struggled wildly.  "Wyrm is in there!" 
    
    "Wyrm is going to save him!" the Seeker shouted back.  "Wyrm is what
    killed Lilith and Faith!  Wyrm needs him the way he was before Winslow
    got ahold of him!  Which is worse, Constable?" 
    
    Fraser stared at Turnbull, horrorfied. 
    
    "You've trusted me up to this point, Benton," said the Seeker, his voice
    quiet now.  "Trust me a little further." 
    
    "Ray..." 
    
    *** 
    
    It was cold and dark but he didn't need to see to know the walls were
    too damned close for his comfort.  He tried to tell himself that he really
    didn't need to breath, that there was no reason to panic.  The walls
    were stone.  They weren't going anywhere... 
    
    Dead Man Walking was right.  He remembered the look of amusement in Calhoun's
    pale eyes at the notion of him, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, being a vampire.
    Bad enough he was a prince and an elder but undead as well?  Between
    the claustrophobia, his reluctance to kill anything out of the line of
    duty, and his longing for coffee, the Sabbat had summed everything up
    quite nicely: 
    
    "Prince Kowalski, you're going to make a rotten vampire." 
    
    And now here he was in some dungeon in a dead book with no clue how to
    get out or why he was here.  He hesitated to believe Turnbull had set
    him up like this.  It was even more un-Mountie-like than Fraser picking
    on a supposedly blind guy.  It was completely un-Turnbullish. 
    
    Maybe not beyond the Seeker, though. 
    
    A whisper of a breeze above him.  Ray stilled, listening.  Was that a
    voice?  He waited.  Another breeze, carrying with it the smell of burned
    sulpher and rotten flesh. 
    
    "...prince kowalski..." 
    
    Ray looked up at the blackness above.  "Yeeeeeah?" he asked nervously.
    
    "Sum Wyrm..." 
    
    "Sub terra," finished Ray, not sure how or why he knew the unfamiliar
    words. 
    
    "....very good...you wish to return to what you once were..." 
    
    "Yeah." 
    
    "Why?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser sat hunched over Ray's body, feeling like his world had ended.
    Ray was unresponsive, and he could not tear the book from the vampire
    prince's grasp. He rubbed his hands over his face, looking up when the
    door opened, admitting Calhoun. 
    
    "I though I felt -"  Calhoun looked at his prince, saw the book and froze.
    "Who..." 
    
    Turnbull cleared his throat and James turned towards him. "It was neccesary.
    I am sorry..." 
    
    "Where's Tom?" Fraser whispered, eager for the distraction. 
    
    "Asleep in the car." 
    
    *** 
    
    His eyes opened and it took him a long time to focus. He felt cold. And
    alone. But in a different way. He could hear the fluttering of leathery
    wings, and looked out the window. Adolph was hovering around the car.
    He jumped back, trying to shove himself into the paneling of the car
    to get away. 
    
    The Wyrm Childe stared at him, an odd look in his yellow eyes. "Daddy...Open
    the door..." 
    
    "No." 
    
    The tiny demon looked hurt.  "You don't love me..." 
    
    "I do.  You don't love me, Adolph." 
    
    The wounded expression twisted in a cunning smile of pure maliciousness
    that showed yellow fangs and a long, forked tongue.  Adolph laughed,
    landing on the hood of the GTO with his long, clawed feet. He'd gotten
    bigger.  His tail lashed behind him.  Tom felt...what did he feel?  Sadness.
    
    "Come out here and talk to me, daddy." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "My father loved you, didn't he?  Did you enjoy it?"  Adolph's voice
    was innocent, sweet.  "You probabally did, whore.  Now he's doing the
    same to your precious Prince Kowalski." 
    
    "Liar.  Ray's got no demon blood in him.  He can't carry a demon.  Nice
    try." 
    
    Adolph hissed, angry. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Why?" 
    
    "I don't like what I am," Ray replied, wishing he could see anything.
    Even with undead eyes, there was not enough light down here to see. 
    "I don't like what I might do one of these days to Fraser." 
    
    "Your soul." 
    
    "Yeah.  I said he was and he is." 
    
    "'And sorry is the man who regrets having a soul.'" 
    
    It stung to have Caine's words quoted back to him by this monster.  Gentle,
    loving Caine that had called him son and fought against his own children
    to protect Kowalski.  Still, antagonizing the root of all evil wasn't
    such a hot idea, so instead of the smart remark he'd wanted to throw
    out, Ray just said, "Yeah.  Exactly." 
    
    "Why should I help you?" 
    
    "Turnbull said ya wanted me back the way I was." 
    
    "You would walk in two worlds again?" 
    
    Ray strained to see the source of the voice, afraid to see, afraid not
    to.  "I did it fer a few years.  Kinda got used to it." 
    
    "What would I gain by returning you to a ghoulite?" 
    
    "Caller waiting?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser whirled as a long, angry howl tore through the consolate.  Diefenbaker!
    
    Slayer and Sabbat rushed to the entrance and paused in the doorway. 
    
    Adolph perched on the hood of the GTO, looking inside. 
    
    Instantly Calhoun frenzied, ready to fight and die for Grissom.  Fraser
    ran to Turnbull's desk and yanked open the drawer, pulling out a stake.
    
    "Dief, keep back!  Stay inside!" 
    
    "Twisted little fucker's gonna buy it tonight," hissed the vampire. 
    
    "Get him over here!" ordered Fraser, feeling instinct swell within him.
    "Get him onto consolate grounds!" 
    
    "Adolph!" shouted Calhoun. 
    
    The demon turned, hissing.  He smiled at the sight of the two men so
    ready to do battle and launched himself off the car, leaving long gouges
    on the hood. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Adolph!" exclaimed Turnbull, staning in the door of the conference room.
    He could see the demon through the open front door.  "Dief, get back
    here!" 
    
    He watched as Adolph flew at Fraser, then at Calhoun. Tom was stuck in
    the car. Or wouldn't get out. He couldn't be sure. 
    
    *** 
    
    Somewhere in Ray's subconscious, he heard a name.  It distracted him
    totally because it seemed like Turnbull said it. 
    
    "Adolph?" he whispered, Wyrm forgotten, his thoughts all returning to
    his friends.  "Oh, shit..." 
    
    "NO!" boomed the voice, almost deafening him.  Ray was knocked flat.
    "Not the Seer!  Begone, Prince Kowalski!  Be as you were!" 
    
    The Seer? Tom? 
    
    *** 
    
    It was the same sickening feeling as falling, and it felt like he landed
    on solid rock from a few stories up.  Ray gasped.  The light was blinding
    him. He felt a furred paw on his face, and managed to open his eyes.
    Dief was jumping around him, licking at his face. "What's going on?"
    
    He followed the wolf out to the street, feeling his way like a blind
    man. Turnbull had joined in the fight to subdue Adolph. He could hear
    the voices.  They'd managed to sink a stake deep in the creature's shoulder
    and were pulling him down. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom watched the fight from inside the GTO, trembling slightly. He'd never
    be able to fight Adolph. Not his own son. No. He closed his eyes. Suddenly
    his eyes fell on Ray across the street, and panicked. 
    
    "...thomas grissom...." 
    
    "Ye...yes?" 
    
    "Give me what I want, and I shall give you what you need...." 
    
    *** 
    
    Turnbull had brought more stakes.  Thank god.  Fraser had spent his when
    Calhoun had pinned the tiny demon down.  At the last moment, Adolph had
    twisted and Fraser's stake had only impaled his shoulder.  Anger swelled
    in Fraser, a reaction he rarely experienced.  The demon was remarkably
    strong and escaped the Sabbat's hold, though not before Calhoun's clawed
    hand ripped the membrane on his wing, partially crippling him. 
    
    The demon hissed in fury.  There were too many and they were too strong.
    Still, the Slayer, the /other/ Slayer, was almost in range... 
    
    He lunged at Frasser with such force that the Mountie was knocked down
    to the grass. His throat...he wanted that white throat, wanted it lacerated
    to the bone. 
    
    Wanted him dead. 
    
    /You will not harm the Slayers./ 
    
    Adolph knew the voice.  The voice of Wyrm.  His father.  The Slayers?
    All three of them?  He couldn't even slaughter /one/ of them, after what
    Fraser had done to him in Hell? 
    
    /You will not harm Prince Kowalski./ 
    
    Prince?  There was a vampire prince here?  Surely not the animal in black...
    
    /You will not harm Elder Calhoun./ 
    
    Frustrated and panicking, Adolph struggled for the edge of the property.
    "Who the fuck can I kill, you bastard?" 
    
    /None here.  Begone, spawn, until I call for you./ 
    
    "Fuck you!" hissed Adolph at the ground.  Fraser was still closest. 
    He could - 
    
    They all jumped as the demon suddenly howled in agony.  Writhing on the
    ground, the small creature kicked and swung his tail, broken wings beating
    the earth. 
    
    "Turnbull!" cried Fraser. 
    
    The Mountie understood and threw him a stake.  Catching it, Fraser poised
    to impale the hideous monster when another voice cut across the lawn.
    A familiar one. 
    
    "Fraser, no!" 
    
    Tom had left the GTO. He stood, wild-eyed near the sidewalk. 
    
    "Tom?" Fraser stared at him, surprise staying his hand.  Surprise and
    breeding. "He was going to kill you..." 
    
    "No. He wasn't...leave him. Wyrm will take him back down." 
    
    Fraser glanced at the writhing demon. It was crawling towards an open
    sewer drain. He nodded. "All right." 
    
    "Fraser!" Calhoun protested, glaring at Tom. "Why?" 
    
    "Because he's my son..." 
    
    "He'll kill us all," stated Turnbull.  Fraser just shook his head, walking
    across the lawn to retrieve his fallen Stetson.  Dief, still a wolf,
    came running up to him, demanding his attention. 
    
    "Ray?  Ray!" 
    
    He looked up at the consolate.  There, in the door, was Ray.  The detective's
    head was lowered and he moved slowly. 
    
    Blind, Fraser realized.  Ray was blind.  That meant... 
    
    He was a ghoulite again. 
    
    Fraser bounded up the steps with a cry of delight on his lips.  He seized
    Ray in a crushing-tight hug, blinking back tears.  He knew there would
    be a price to pay, but right now, he didn't care. 
    
    *** 
    
    Stella smiled, feeling Irene's prescence in her do the same as Vecchio
    dialed his mother to give her the news. She supposed he got Frannie instead,
    but judging by her squeals over the phonelines, Ray's sister was ecstatic.
    
    As was she. She could already feel the cravings for odd things begining.
    She smiled wider, tilting her head. When she was with her ex husband,
    she had not wanted children. Couldn't see herelf with them and him. 
    
    She could with Vecchio. And so could Irene. 
    
    *** 
    
    Somehow Ray had managed to convince Tom to stay at the apartment.  Nobody
    could quite figure out how Ray managed to do it, but they didn't question
    their good fortune.  Fraser had gone to pick up Adam and Cassie, while
    Calhoun made sure Tom got into bed all right. He refused to take any
    more of Dr. Melfi's sedatives and Ray didn't blame him. 
    
    Ray leaned back on the couch, smiling happily. He was very glad to be
    back where he was, even if it meant being a ghoulite and wearing glasses
    every waking moment. At least he didn't have to drink any of that duck
    blood pudding stuff anymore. 
    
    Or pretend the night shift was fun. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom woke up curled against Calhoun. The vampire was sleeping peacefully.
    He smiled, suddenly planting a kiss on the vampire's lips. He felt James
    stir with him. 
    
    "Nnnrrrhh," was the ineloquent response.  Tom grinned. 
    
    "James?" 
    
    "Nnnnnmm." 
    
    "Jamey." 
    
    "Wha-?" 
    
    Tom stretched again, pressing another kiss to the vampire's cool lips.
    It had been a night of many revealations and secrets.  Tom felt better
    for having faced some of his fears, but nothing could match that moment
    when James had kicked in the door and told Tom he loved him.  It was
    a precious memory and one he would never tire of. 
    
    "Do you like children?" 
    
    The eyelids fluttered.  James shifted and settled down again.  "Quiet
    ones," muttered the vampire. 
    
    "Did you ever want more after you lost your daughter?" 
    
    "I'm dead.  Fathering a child is not an option."  He yawned, displaying
    razor-shart fangs.  "Go back to sleep." 
    
    "But if you could." 
    
    Realizing there was no escape, Calhoun opened his eyes and looked at
    Tom.  What was he up to now? "Are you pregnant again?" His voice, his
    tone was even. He didn't think he could handle it if Tom was. 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Good." He curled back up, pulling Tom close. "Go back to sleep." 
    
    Tom frowned. "Not..." He nipped at Cal's lower lip, then kissed him again.
    "...tired." 
    
    Calhoun caught Tom's face in his hands, and pulled him back. "Stop it.
    I'm tired. I'm not in the mood for it." Not quite the truth. But something
    was seriously weird here. What had Faith called Tom? Kinky Slayer? 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser stared at the gearshift of the Gremlin, and frowned. He'd been
    sitting out here for ten minutes, trying to figure this out. He'd walked
    to Tom's apartment, but walking back was not an option with a baby and
    a young girl. But he'd never driven a car like this before. 
    
    She smirked at him, and shook her head. "Want me to drive?" 
    
    "Aren't you a bit young?" 
    
    "I have my permit. Dad lets me drive it." 
    
    "That...would be helpful.  Thank you kindly, Cassie." 
    
    She snorted. "Whatever." They switched sides quickly and he settled back
    in the passenger seat. "Your father's feeling much better tonight. He
    talked to someone." 
    
    "A shrink?" At his nod, she whistled. "Wow. Didn't think anybody could
    ever drag him back to one of them. What'd ya do, bribe him?" 
    
    "Hardly." She shrugged, and he continued. "Ray's a...ghoulite again."
    How he despised that word. He let out an oof as she braked particularly
    hard. 
    
    "What??" 
    
    Maybe he'd best stop talking while she drove. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Not yet," promised Tom, nuzzling James' ear.  Calhoun bit his lip, careful
    not to cut himself. 
    
    "Tom..."  He tried (and failed) to keep his voice even. 
    
    "When the last time you actually had normal...healthy...human...one-on-one...sex?"
    
    Calhoun stared at the ceiling, thinking.  "January 12, 1880. 4:13 AM."
    
    The Slayer gagged.  The vampire glared. 
    
    "I'm /dead/, Tom.  I've been dead for a hundred and twenty years.  The
    only bodily functions I have to worry about are drinking blood and sleeping,
    which I was doing very well until you woke me up."  He rolled onto his
    side.  Tom was not going to be put off and lay down full length atop
    his lover, whispering in his ear, 
    
    "Are you sure?  Don't you want to find out if you can still..." 
    
    Calhoun stiffened and his eyes bolted open as he felt Tom's tongue trace
    along his ear. 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Liar." 
    
    "Tom, you're wasting your time.  I'm a vampire.  Our idea of sex is not
    quite as physical as yours." 
    
    "That's cause you never tried, Major." 
    
    "Tom..." 
    
    "Ja-ames..." 
    
    "Jesus Christ," grumbled the Sabbat.  Tom laughed and gave his attention
    back to James' neck, trying to drive the cranky vampire insane. It was
    working. Slowly, his fingers massaged at the back of Tom's neck. 
    
    Then he thought of something. 
    
    "Tom?" 
    
    "mmm?" 
    
    "When did /you/ last have 'normal, human, one on one sex?'" 
    
    Tom froze, pulling back. "Normal?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Human..." 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "One on one..." 
    
    "Tom." 
    
    Tom thought back, making a show of it. Suddenly he blushed and rolled
    away. "Nevermind." 
    
    "Tom!" 
    
    *** 
    
    Cassie followed Fraser into the apartment, carying her little brother.
    She was tired and apparently so was Adam. Ray was sitting reading on
    the couch, waiting up for them. 
    
    "Ray. Where should they sleep?" 
    
    "Cassie can take the couch." Ray got up, and started pulling out the
    couch bed. 
    
    "And Adam?" 
    
    "Put 'em in with Tom." 
    
    Fraser took Adam from Cassie, carrying him to the bedroom door. He paused,
    listening. "I think I'll put him in with Diefenbaker, Ray." 
    
    "Why?" Ray looked up, both he and Cassie tugging on the blankets. He
    raised his eyebrows in realisation. Apparently Cassie had realised too.
    She crinkled her nose in the universal language of teenager disgust at
    their parents having sex. "Oh.  Fine.  Dief.  Tell him to get us if Adam
    wakes up." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Hey, Frase?" 
    
    "Yes, Ray?" 
    
    "Why do I keep on havin' this image of in my mind of hot, wild sex?"
    
    "Maybe because now you can, Ray." 
    
    "Oh?  Can I?" 
    
    "Of course.  You don't have to ask." 
    
    "Thank you kindly, Frase." 
    
    "/My/ pleasure, Ray." 
    
    *** 
    
    "James?" 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "My last normal sexual encounter was...Faith.  After her I went psychic."
    
    "Don't blame you." 
    
    "James?" 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "I'll leave you alone if you want." 
    
    Helluva corner to be backed into.  Damn.  He really wanted to sleep.
    Instead he rolled over and looked at the brown eyes adoring him.  Impulsively,
    he reached up, yanking Tom down for a long, deep kiss. 
    
    "Don't ever leave me, Tom Grissom." He shouldn't be wanting this. He
    hadn't wanted anything like this for the last 120 years. Was it Tom?
    
    "James," breathe Tom reverently, running his fingers through the vampire's
    jet hair. 
    
    /God/, thought Calhoun, letting the sensation wash over him.  /Missed
    this.../ 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray's neck arched back as Fraser nuzzled at it lovingly. "Frase..." He
    twisted his fingers into the Mountie's hair as he worked his way lower.
    "God...missed this..." 
    
    "I know..." A light kiss to Ray's chest. "Missed you. Love you..." 
    
    "Fraser..." Ray closed his eyes, letting the Mountie's ministrations
    carry him over. 
    
    *** 
    
    "We should tell them in the morning," Irene smiled, twining her fingers
    with Vechio's. "They'll be happy for us, won't they?" 
    
    He nodded, squeezing her hand. "Of course. Why wouldn't they be?" 
    
    "I don't know...." 
    
    "You worry too much." 
    
    "I know. I'm sorry." She kissed him, gently. "I love you." 
    
    "Love you too." 
    
    *** 
    
    "James..." Tom's voice was throaty, full of pent up emotion and lust
    as he reveled in his lover's responses.  The blue eyes closed in quiet
    ecstacy. "James." He caught Calhoun's face in his hands, kissing him
    deep and... 
    
    *** 
    
    ...he felt Fraser warm beneath him. He smiled. He needed this. Needed
    it now. He could feel something weird going on, but for once didn't care.
    
    *** 
    
    His mind exploded in a sea of light and happines.  A child, he prayed.
    Give me a child.  He nearly wept for the joy and the hope. He felt Calhoun
    curl against him, and immiediately fell asleep. 
    
    But for Calhoun sleep was a long time coming. 
    
    He lay awake, listening to Tom breathe, feeling the warmth of him, sensing
    the blood flowing through his body.  Calhoun wondered exactly what had
    happened. 
    
    Besides the obvious, of course.  The obvious was that he'd just made
    wild, passionate love to Tom.  The hitch was that he never should have
    been able to.  Not like this.  Not intercourse. 
    
    He was, after all, dead. 
    
    In 120 years, he'd never felt desire such as he had once felt for Marianne.
    Sexual attraction had evaporated, replaced by the equally satisfying
    but completely different letting of blood. 
    
    And psychic sex?  The best of both worlds, provided you found the right
    partner. 
    
    He had. 
    
    He just couldn't understand this totally uncharacteristic desire to ravish
    the warm body beside him.  Take him, make love to him, cherish him, give
    him as much as he took. 
    
    It had to be Tom.  Something psychic.  He hoped so, partially because
    it would calm his fears but mostly because he wouldn't say no to another
    round. 
    
    He didn't protest the feeling. 
    
    He just knew it wasn't right. 
    
    He was, after all, dead. 
    
    *** 
    
    Dief watched the child king sleep. He didn't like the change in his den.
    It was unnerving for the werekid.  Turning on the bed, he pushed the
    blankets around.  His movements roused the child king and Dief looked
    up happily as a gurgle of noise escaped the baby.  He leaned close, sniffing
    at the odd-smelling creature until their noses touched.  The child king
    squealed in delight, repeating the noise when Dief growled and whined
    softly in response.  Here was one who understood how to communicate properly.
    They talked long into the night of many things and the people they loved
    until werechild and child king slept warm and close. 
    
    *** 
    
    Blindly, Ray hunted for the coffee. He rooted through the cupboards,
    through the drawers. It was a hunt as thorough as any bloodhunt, and
    twice as important. He finally sighed, sagging against the counter. They
    were out. Dammit. 
    
    He could understand why they were out since as a vampire he hadn't been
    able to down the stuff and Fraser drank the consulate coffee. And Tom
    didn't drink it at all. But it was still annoying. 
    
    He glanced up as Fraser came into the kitchen, leaning back as the Mountie
    wrapped his arms around him. "We're out of coffee," he murmured with
    a sigh. 
    
    "I'm sorry. I'll rectify that on the way home from work." 
    
    "Watch yer language.  Cassie's in the next room." 
    
    He felt Fraser smile against his neck.  "Apologies, Ray.  I'll get you
    more coffee." 
    
    "Thanks."  Ray smiled, turning around and kissing Fraser gently. "Thank
    you." 
    
    "As you would say, Ray. Not a problem." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom woke up to find James only moments away from falling asleep. He smiled
    warmly and slipped out of bed. He felt...a lot better than he had in
    years. He pulled on his clothes, slowly, and felt eyes on him. "James?"
    
    "You're glowing.  Stop it." 
    
    "I'm happy." 
    
    Calhoun grunted. "You're never happy." 
    
    "I'm happy now." He felt James' shock, and smiled. 
    
    He made it to the bathroom when he realized the truth. 
    
    It hadn't worked. 
    
    He wasn't carrying a child. 
    
    Tom closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, crushed.  Wyrm had promised...and
    last night had been the most wonderful night Tom Grissom had enjoyed
    in years.  He tried not to let his disappaointment diminish the ecstacies
    of James' touch, the sounds he had made as they made love, the look in
    those pale eyes.  He tried.  And failed. 
    
    With a sigh he stood up and went to the sink when he glanced at his reflection.
    
    Wyrm, or a version of Wyrm, was behind him. 
    
    Tom whirled, but he was alone in the room.  He looked back in the mirror.
    Wyrm looked at him through a reflection. 
    
    "You were not prepared, Moloch," rumbled a deep voice. 
    
    "What do you mean?" 
    
    "You will be prepared for the next time.  And then a child will be conceived."
    
    Tom blinked, alone again.  A stupid grin spread across his face. Next
    time? 
    
    *** 
    
    Stella knocked on the door first. She squeezed Vecchio's hand, then smiled
    at Fraser when he opened the door. "Ray. Madam Kowalski. Isn't it a bit...."
    
    "We're pregnant," she blurted out, enjoying the momentary shock on the
    Mountie's face. 
    
    "Way to lead up, Stel," Vecchio smiled. 
    
    "We?" wondered Fraser, stunned.  Irene, Stella, or Ray?  Or a combination?
    
    "Can we come in?" asked Vecchio. 
    
    "Oh!  O-of course.  Come in, please." 
    
    They crowded into the apartment.  Caine decided just then to let the
    household at large know he was hungry and Diefenbaker came running out
    and bodily dragged the Mountie away.  Cassie rose with a growl that did
    her demon heritage proud and stalked off towards Ray's bed, dragging
    her pillow and blanket with her. 
    
    "Wha-?  That you, Vecchio?" asked Ray, squinting so hard he couldn't
    see. 
    
    "Morning, Stan."  He looked up as Fraser returned with Caine and Tom
    emerged, drawn by the baby's crying.  He spotted the newcomers and immediately
    knew.  She was pregnant.  She glowed.  She noticed his glance and smiled
    back at him.  Would she know when it was his turn again?  Would he have
    that same radient glow about him? 
    
    "Where's Jamey?" wondered Vecchio. 
    
    "Sleeping," said Tom.  "He was up late." 
    
    "Well, Benny knows, but we've got good news." 
    
    "Whasup?" asked Ray. 
    
    Stella smiled.  "I'm pregnant." 
    
    Fraser beamed.  Tom acted surprised, though his delight was genuine.
    But Ray...Ray Kowalski sank down into a chair, silent, his long hands
    on his lap.  He bent his head before they could see his shock. 
    
    Vecchio froze, remembering a large part of the reason Stan and Stella
    had gotten a divorce.  Children.  He wanted them, she hadn't.  Not at
    that time. 
    
    Or was it, not with Stanley Raymond Kowalski? 
    
    He saw Benny's face.  His elation had evaporated and like everyone else
    on the room, the Mountie had no idea of what to say.  Then Stella knelt
    before him, took both of his hands in hers. 
    
    "Ray?  Please look at me." 
    
    She loosened one hand to lift his chin. 
    
    "Ray, it's me." 
    
    "Irene," he aknowledged. 
    
    "Ray.../I'm/ pregnant.  I was pregnant with Ray's baby when I died and
    I carried that soul with me to Stella.  Now that I've got a body again,
    that soul has a chance."  Irene touched his face tenderly, remembering
    all he had done for her.  Stella touched him just as lovingly, remembering
    so many good times.  "Ray, please.  I'm sorry for not breaking it to
    you better." 
    
    He covered her hand with his own.  "S'okay, Stell, Irene...I was just
    a bit surprised.  Yer gonna make wonderful mothers." 
    
    She smiled, brushing away a tear from his cheek.  "Thank you." 
    
    


End file.
